12
IT WAS FOUR-THIRTY by the time we arrived home. Nathan grabbed a flashlight, so that we could continue our search even after the sun went down.
“Let me show you the spot where I think we flipped over in the truck.”
He zipped up his jacket. “Fine.”
Nathan was unusually quiet as we walked through the yard, toward the dirt road. It took us about ten minutes to reach the area.
“This is it.” I pointed at the tire tracks leading from the gravel road to the grass.
“Yeah, and look over here.” He motioned toward a large area of grass that had been flattened. “This must have been where it rolled. There’s even some debris left over.”
We looked closer and found broken pieces of glass, metal, and plastic.
I leaned down and picked up a piece of the taillight. “So, do you believe me now? Someo
